


show this town how to kiss these stars

by doingthemost



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: F/F, First Dates, co-workers in love, eventually, it's ok to let people in stevie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doingthemost/pseuds/doingthemost
Summary: "She's there, going through the motions, and she thinks she's gotten everything she's due in life. But then..." Stevie trails off, thinking, before she says, "This opportunity, I guess. It comes along and shetakesit."Ruth asks Stevie out on their first date. It doesn't go entirely smoothly, but that's more than okay.
Relationships: Stevie Budd/Ruth Clancy
Comments: 31
Kudos: 39
Collections: Schitt's Creek Rare Ships! Ongoing Prompts





	show this town how to kiss these stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Januarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Januarium/gifts), [dinnfameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinnfameron/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [schittscreekrareships](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/schittscreekrareships) collection. 



> Title from "Manhattan" by Kings of Leon. Thank you to singsongsung for the beta and januarium for all the discussions!

Ruth slides the tickets across her desk in one smooth motion, before she can second-guess herself or lose her nerve. She'd put on black nail polish the night before, a rich matte color chosen specifically for Stevie's eyes, and she allows her fingertips to rest above the word _Cabaret_. 

Stevie's brows raise, then knit together. Her mouth opens, closes, then opens again as their eyes meet. "How did you know I liked the show?"

Ruth tries to swallow around the heart-shaped lump in her throat, tries to keep the hopefulness from bleeding out into her eyes. "I saw your lockscreen background last time you were in town."

"Oh." Stevie's so still across from her, her eyes narrowed, looking at Ruth like a jigsaw with a missing piece. "I didn't know you paid that close attention to me."

"Of course I do." 

There's the barest hint of a smile on Stevie's face. Ruth catches it, though, holds onto it and nurtures the hope it sparks in her chest. 

"So you'd want to go tonight?" Ruth tries to keep her face serious, tries to keep herself as professional as she can even as she asks out a co-worker. "With me?"

Stevie traces the seat number on a ticket. The look on her face is almost reverent in its somberness. "Yeah," she says. "I would." 

"Great." Ruth bites back a smile. They're almost touching, hands just inches away from each other. "Then it's a date."

  


  


  


She finds Stevie outside the theatre, eyes up on the marquee like she can't quite believe what she's seeing. She's so focused, so in awe, that Ruth has to tap her on the shoulder to draw her away from the big block letters that spell out _CABARET_.

"Hey," Stevie says. One corner of her mouth pulls up into a half-smile, hesitant and brief, as she turns her focus to Ruth. "You look – really nice." 

"It's a date," Ruth says lightly. She'd said it earlier, when Stevie had first agreed to go out with her, but now she's second-guessing her decision to leave her long black coat unbuttoned, so Stevie could get the full effect of the burgundy lace dress she's wearing underneath. She hesitates, then adds, "Right?"

A muscle in Stevie's jaw tightens, but her eyes are kind. Her gaze is like a spotlight, fixing Ruth in its center and holding her in place. "Yeah. It's just... been a while for me, I guess. But – yeah. It's a date." 

Ruth's grin is unstoppable, and it only gets wider when Stevie steps just a hair closer to her, their shoulders and arms touching as they fall in line. "Good." 

"But let's not tell Mr. Rose about this," Stevie says after a moment. When Ruth looks down at Stevie, trying to decipher her meaning, Stevie's eyes are amused. "Or Roland. I just don't think we need either of them giving us shit right now." 

Ruth laughs, and something between them eases, shifts them from co-workers to the possibility of more. "Don't worry. I can keep a secret."

  


  


  


They purchase wine and cookies in the lobby, then find their seats in the mezzanine. She lets Stevie take the aisle seat, even though Ruth's legs are longer. She's much more concerned with the way Stevie runs her palm over the Playbill, just like she had earlier in Ruth's office.

"You were in a production of this, right?" The theatre, like anywhere in New York, is loud, but Ruth keeps her voice quiet. She likes that Stevie has to lean in to hear her, that when she lifts her eyes up to meet Ruth's, their mouths are just inches away. 

"Yeah. Just a small regional thing." Stevie opens the little booklet and skims over the list of songs. "I, um." She touches her index finger to “Maybe This Time.” "I played Sally. My first and last musical."

"Really?" Ruth stretches her arm across the back of Stevie's seat as she twists to face Stevie. 

"Yeah." Stevie lifts one shoulder up in a shrug. "About a year or so ago." 

Ruth loves this: getting to know someone new, holding onto each morsel of knowledge as a little gift, trying to fit the pieces of them together. She only knows Stevie in the context of business, a little rough around the edges despite her polished suits, and the bits and pieces of information that Stevie's given her over conference calls, video chats, and lunch near the office whenever she's in the city. Stevie holds her cards close to the chest, only giving out details when they're needed, and Ruth's collected every single one – how she inherited the first Rosebud, her friendship with Johnny Rose's son, her favorite flavor of bagel – for safe-keeping.

"That's amazing," Ruth says. But it sounds like a platitude as soon as she hears it, and Stevie's nose wrinkles as if on cue. "I mean – I can't carry a tune to save my life."

"Neither can I." It worked, though; Stevie's relaxing again, so Ruth does, too, even if she's not sure if Stevie's telling the truth or self-deprecating. 

"What do you mean?" 

"It's actually... I guess the way Mrs. Rose talked me through it, Sally's not supposed to be the best singer or dancer. But she's there, going through the motions, and she thinks she's gotten everything she's due in life. But then..." Stevie trails off, thinking, before she says, "This opportunity, I guess. It comes along and she _takes_ it." 

There's a brightness to Stevie's eyes now, an almost-ferocious gleam that Ruth's never seen before. She leans in, drawn like a moth to a flame, and for a moment she thinks they're about to kiss – but then Stevie draws back as the first sounds from the orchestra start to fill the theatre. 

"It's starting," Stevie says, her eyes still on Ruth's. But then she blinks, and it's like the moment between them has vanished into the ether. Stevie bends down, tucking the Playbill carefully away, and the lights dim.

  


  


  


In truth, Ruth hasn't seen this show before. She vaguely knows what it's about, but she'd never been an arts kind of person. Her life has always been numbers and logic and values, the irrevocable knowledge that there's always a solution for any problem. Sure, she likes music well enough, but it's always been a means to an end, an easy way to elevate her mood or fill the empty space around her. She's never given much thought to the way that a certain combination of colors or sounds or words could make her chest tighten and her heart swell.

 _Cabaret_ , though? Fuck, it's good. The dread of it all permeates her senses as they hurtle towards the inevitable with every passing song. And then Ruth notices how Stevie mouths the words next to her, her attention rapt and full of more concentration than Ruth's ever seen her apply at work. These tickets were expensive, and she really should be watching the show, but she can't focus on anything but Stevie.

Ruth has known she was queer since her sophomore year of high school. She's dated women on-and-off since then, and had one serious relationship at Columbia before graduating, but she's never met anyone like Stevie Budd before. Ruth had seen the way Stevie held herself during that initial pitch to Mike Morrison's team, and her heart had ached for her. She'd never seen anyone who wanted so badly that she couldn't risk the world knowing it.

It had taken a while for them to become friends, but every time Stevie had placed a wall between them, the more Ruth wanted to find a door or a window and see if Stevie would ever let her in. And now they're here together, Stevie's arm next to hers on the armrest, both of them carefully balancing on half of it. 

Ruth tilts her hand very slowly, brushing the back of it against Stevie's. She lifts her eyes up to the stage just as Stevie looks back at her, and somehow manages to not draw in a sharp intake of breath when Stevie traces her index finger against Ruth's.

  


  


  


After the show ends and they spill out onto the sidewalk with the rest of the audience, Ruth lifts her arm and gestures to a hole-in-the-wall bar around the corner on Ninth at the exact same time that Stevie raises her eyebrows, and they both smile. 

"Wanna grab a drink?" 

"Yeah." 

They talk about the show, arms brushing together gently, as they walk. Stevie's in awe of how it differed from her production back home – "I mean, obviously ours was... _extremely_ low-budget compared to _that_." – and Ruth's still shocked by the ending. 

"I think I could've picked a happier show for our first date," she says with a laugh. 

"Dunno about that." Stevie lifts her shoulder in a shrug, and despite the height difference between them, Ruth can feel the gentle motion through their winter coats. "Seems pretty on brand for my dating life. Moodiness, impending doom..." 

"Is that what you're expecting out of you and me?" 

Ruth doesn't _mean_ to say it, but sometimes her mouth's faster than her brain. They come to a stop right in the center of the sidewalk, earning more than a few irritated glares from other pedestrians, but Ruth's words are out in the open and she can't take them back.

"That's not really –" Stevie cuts herself off, then blows a burst of air through pursed lips as she shakes her head. "Fuck. I didn't mean it like that." 

"Then what did you mean? Because I really like you, Stevie, and –"

" _Why_ , though?" Stevie's hands rest on her waist like she's squaring off for a fight, like she can't possibly believe that Ruth's still here and ready and willing to have this conversation outside, in near-freezing temperatures, on a New York sidewalk. "Why do you like me? We've only known each other for a few months, and we barely know each other –"

"Wow, Stevie. I didn't realize I have to know your social security number in order to be worthy of dating you." 

It hangs in between them, echoing in the air and the sounds of the city, before Stevie laughs, and Ruth does, too, and it's just the two of them, and everything else disappears. She knows the sound of Stevie's laughter from too many late night calls, during dinners out and over take-out boxes, and in their Slack DMs and private voice channel, when Roland's sending inappropriate gifs in the #general channel or butt-dialing the entire company on VoIP. She's sure she'll never forget it. 

And then Stevie's grabbing onto her coat, leaning up against Ruth as she pulls Ruth's mouth down onto her own. Ruth blinks, stunned, but she catches on quickly, bending her knees and letting her hands find Stevie's waist, and suddenly this isn't just a daydream or a fantasy, Stevie's body tight against hers, an inappropriate crush on a co-worker several years older. This is her and Stevie, and they can figure out the rest from here.


End file.
